Private Fantasies
by sarapals with past50
Summary: Follows Sara and Grissom after the closing lines of "Time of your Death". Short story. GSR and major Fluff! Enjoy!
1. Chapter 1

_Back with a short one, inspiration from GSRFO's July Fanfiction Challenge for a summer sizzler! _

_We own nothing! Just having fun with CSI's two favorite lovers with a little bit of Greg. _

**Private Fantasies Chapter 1**

The case was closed; a sad conclusion to a young man's fantasy.

"They probably thought that they just taught him a lesson," Catherine said with a sigh.

Grissom almost grunted his reply; "They did; don't confuse fantasy with reality."

The easy bantering went on between the friends and co-workers. Everyone's breath stopped as Nick showed the bracelet the victim had purchased. Greg's birthday was approaching and everyone left to celebrate an early birthday breakfast—everyone except Gil and Sara.

His eyes had settled on Sara as their talk had turned to fantasies and as she always knew when he was near her, he was sending a message. She lifted her eyes to his and a smile tugged at her lips.

Sara heard Greg and Catherine and Nick laughing as they left, but she remained in her chair, eyes locked with Grissom's. Neither showed interest in following the others to the diner. For long moments, he continued to study her with his fascinating eyes.

His blue eyes darkened as his pupils seemed to dilate into blackness; a faint smile played with his face causing him to appear much younger than his actual age. If either blinked, she did not notice and after several minutes, a slight tilt of his head caused her to nod in agreement.

Grissom's brow lifted slightly as if affirming her thoughts. His voice was soft, barely above a whisper, "What is your fantasy, dear?"

Her eyes never left his as he stood and moved around the table, closing the space between them. Not once had his eyes flicked away from hers. He stopped beside her and swiveled her chair to face him, extended one hand to hers and brought her to her feet. His fingers played on her palm and with his free hand, he drew his thumb across her bottom lip.

The velvety rasp of his fingertip on her mouth stole her breath and her ability to think of one single intelligent thing to say. The small caress was exquisitely intimate and dangerous for them. Suddenly, Sara became aware of the ache for more of his touch. For some reason—and there were many—she could not summon the denial and restraint she needed.

Instead, she touched the tip of her tongue to the edge of his thumb and the texture, the taste, sent an overwhelming heated desire through her. Just as quickly as she withdrew her tongue, dampness formed between her legs. With that feeling, she closed her eyes as heat flushed her face.

"We need to leave," the voice was Grissom's, husky, incredibly sexy in a breathless way. All she could do was nod her head as he stepped back.

Somehow Sara made it out of the lab and to the parking deck. She placed her head against the steering wheel and tried to slow her racing heartbeat. What had they just done? she wondered, a little panicked as she thought of the possibilities. She pressed the ignition of her car, shifted into reverse, and drove, all the while aware of the moisture between her legs.

Just as she reached the exit of the garage, Grissom stepped off the curb looking as cool and collected as ever. He opened the car door, grinned and crawled inside. He took a minute to adjust himself into the seat before saying: "Home, dear," as he placed a hand on her thigh. His fingers gently swept up her leg.

Sara had to clench her pelvic muscles and take a deep breath before she pressed her foot to the gas pedal, only to hear a car horn sound as she accelerated into the street. The noise brought both to reality of getting safely to their destination…

_Greg has missed Sara; she had by-passed the locker room and gotten to the parking garage minutes ahead of him. He would see her at the diner, he thought, for a pre-birthday celebration. He grinned as he thought of his private fantasy—alone with Sara in some romantic spot. He shook his head knowing that fantasy would not come true any time soon. He walked to his vehicle where he had backed into a space, went to its rear and lifted the back door to place his case inside. _

_Hearing a loud car horn below him, he glanced over the wall to the street below to see Sara's car accelerating away. He could clearly see inside her car from above; his jaw dropped open as he recognized the second person in the car and saw the hand on Sara's thigh. _

"_Well," he said, very softly. "Grissom! You finally figured it out." He watched as the car drove in the opposite direction, away from the diner. He leaned over the wall, smiling. "Sara's fantasy is coming true." He whistled as he tried to decide the best way to let Sara know that he was in on her secret…_


	2. Chapter 2

**Private Fantasies Chapter 2**

Sara was the first to giggle; her hand covered her mouth. Grissom chuckled.

"What on earth brought that about?" Sara asked.

Grissom's fingertips moved along her thigh again. "You."

"Me!" Laughter pealed from her throat as her hand moved to his. She shot a quick glance at him. He was watching the street ahead of them but his little finger had reached the fold of her pants. She did not want him to know how excited she was, how his look and touch had pushed her into an automatic sexual response—in an instant he would feel the dampness. She moved his hand toward her knee.

He grinned as she sped through a yellow light and in ten minutes, neither saying a word, they arrived at the building housing their new home. They had found a renovated warehouse-condominiums building that met their joint needs for a home. It was spacious, near work, and its neighborhood provided a degree of privacy the two desired.

The private garage had been a major selling point after they had looked at dozens of houses, townhouses, and condos and lofts; Sara hit the remote as soon as she turned into the access drive. There had been no need to discuss where they were going—privacy was what both wanted—and Sara knew she would explode if she had to sit through a breakfast of small talk—even for Greg she would not postpone the passion she had seen in Grissom's eyes.

For all practical purposes, they lived together—most of the time. Sara still maintained a small apartment a few blocks away, kept it sparsely furnished, had her mail delivered there in spite of Grissom's regular plea for her to move all of her things into their new home. But on more than one occasion, she had retreated to her private space, unwilling or unable to make the final decision to make her home with the man she loved.

Today, as talk of fantasies turned to a knee-weakening warmth as smoldering eyes watched her, Sara had almost visibly trembled with excitement. Before the car rolled to a stop, before the garage door closed securely, Grissom had pressed both seat belt releases and opened his door. In seconds, he was opening her door, extending a hand to bring her out of the car. He pulled her closer and covered her mouth. Heat, searing and intense, swept through her.

Sara's hands tightened around his shoulders; fingers combed into his hair. He slid one hand down her back to the place where the curve of her hips began and pressed her into the intimate space created between his legs. The position allowed him to feel the softness of her stomach against his erection and a hot ache filled his lower body.

Sara would have lost her balance if Grissom had not held her tightly as he deepened the kiss. The time came when neither could breathe, and lips broke away while they sucked in air but they did not release their tangled hug. As happened in the lab there continued to be a seductive, invisible excitement between them.

Grissom's hand left her back, found Sara's hand and slowly backed to the door of their house, leading her but never taking his eyes from hers. Inside the house, in the back entrance hallway, standing between recycling bins and a coat rack, Grissom wrapped warm fingers around her neck and brought his mouth to hover just above hers.

"I must confess I was a little caught up in the moment back in the lab," he whispered. He kissed her again in a way that rekindled the hot euphoric feelings of earlier. She clamped fingers around his neck, opened her mouth and deepened the kiss. When she felt his tongue slide along her lower lip she shuddered with stimulating pleasure.

His hands were in her hair with such exquisitely intimacy that she trembled again. And then his mouth was on her throat and she felt the edge of his teeth against her skin. Somehow, he cradled her breast in his palm; Sara could feel the heat of his hand through the fabric of her shirt.

She moaned softly, moving hands around his neck, sliding fingers into his hair, breathing in his unique, clean scent. She dampened her lips with the tip of her tongue as he kissed her again. Her palms held his head tightly as she pulled their lips together and heard a low, hungry groan deep in his chest as his mouth closed over hers.

His reaction was to crowd against her until she was pressed between his aroused body and a cabinet with a grip that seemed to keep them fastened to earth.

"Sara," he breathed her name. His thumb touched her cheek in the delicate way he had of handling a rare butterfly. "You are beautiful."

…_Greg slid into the booth leaving the outside for Warrick and Nick; Catherine was already signaling for coffee, holding up six fingers. _

"_Only four," Greg said. "Sara has an appointment—and Grissom…"_

"_Hey, birthday boy!" Warrick joined Catherine and Nick settled into the space beside Greg. _

"_Some fantasy!" Nick laughed. "Breakfast where we eat two hundred times a year! Where's Sara?"_

"_Appointment," Greg mumbled. _

_Coffee arrived and talk turned to the menu and food and the plate of toast that arrived with coffee. Greg laughed and told jokes and tolerated, with his usual good humor, the kidding and gags of the others. A candle arrived on top of his pancakes along with three waitresses who sang an off-key rendition of "Happy Birthday," as Nick gave Greg's phone number to the oldest waitress._

_As they left, Catherine pulled Greg into a hug. "Sorry the big man didn't make it for your birthday fantasy, Greg." _

"_Ah, you know how Grissom is—probably thought he'd have to pay," Greg laughed. _

_**A/N:** _This is a short story-tomorrow, last chapter, just a little peep in the keyhole of Sara and Grissom's private life! Thanks for reviewing!


	3. Chapter 3

_A/N: Here's the last chapter of this short one! Enjoy!_

**Private Fantasies Chapter 3**

Before Sara could respond to his compliment, Grissom lifted her up with arms locked around her. Her legs wrapped around his hips as his hands slipped to her butt. He carried her swiftly through the kitchen and into their bedroom where he put her down on the wide bed. He lowered himself alongside her.

Gently, cradling her with an arm, his hand found its way underneath her shirt, and his bent leg worked its way between her thighs to snuggle his knee tightly between her legs. As her hand caressed his face, his fingers played and stroked and circled on her skin until his hand rested on her breast. He pushed her bra up, lightly cupping her breast and using his wonderfully soft thumb to circle her areola. A second later, she felt the firm thrust of his erection pressing against her thigh. Her belly rippled in excitement causing her pelvis to rock against him.

"Too many clothes," she said with a smile. Her hands were tugging at his belt.

His hand slipped from her chest to where his knee had been slowly moving. "What's happening here?"

At one time, Sara had been embarrassed by her response to him—the sudden wetness between her legs, the way her nipples became hard and erect, the rise and fall of muscles across her pelvic area—when he looked at her with obvious desire. Today, she was more than a little self-conscious by what he felt; the hot dampness practically pulsated through her pants.

His hand cupped her, moving, pressing from front to back. Her eyes closed, her breath irregular, at this stimulation. He smiled. "Definitely too many clothes." He rolled beside her, quickly removing his pants, sitting up to take off his shirt.

Sara watched, his smooth back muscles inviting her hand to feel the unblemished skin before he turned back to her. She let him undress her, hurrying with her clothes at times, slowing when he got to her crimson colored panties. She squirmed and giggled as his teeth closed on the band of her underwear and his thumb traced along the high-cut leg opening before stopping. His palms slipped under the fabric, one hand removing her panties, the other remaining on her triangle of darkness.

For years she had worn the simplest of bikini briefs purchased in packages of five at Target until one night Grissom gave her a "gift" he said—from him for him, he added.

His gift was one of delicate lace and expensive but washable fabric and fit in a way that felt like warm hands covered her butt. To her the most astonishing part was the way they stayed in place—not riding up or slipping down or bunching in the wrong place. She had not purchased or shopped for underwear since that night and within a week, Grissom had replaced every pair she had with similar ones—all in bright colors of a Crayola box.

"Why?" She asked.

He had grinned with the sexy smirk he reserved for her, "because I'm a panty man," he said. "And every day I can watch you walk around knowing what's covering a certain delicious part of you!" And he had proceeded to kiss her in areas no person had touched since her mother had bathed her in childhood.

Now she felt his tongue against her skin, felt his hot breath as he buried his face into that triangle of hair between her legs. She lifted her hips in an involuntary contraction of muscles. Her hands tangled into his bird's nest of curls as he lifted her legs over his shoulders.

"Gil," she whispered, "I—I want you—now!" She felt the intense heat of his erection as he moved between her legs. She wiggled her hips but he gently pushed her back, bent over her, slid his hand to her butt, and kissed her inner thigh.

Gently, he settled himself and inhaled the exquisite, delicate feminine scent he knew so well. He could live the rest of his life on that drugging fragrance, he thought. He found the swollen, sensitive bud and began to kiss, suck, and blow while sliding one finger into her, probing gently, carefully stroking an especially sensitive area with the pad of his finger.

He heard a moan and felt the increasing contractions of muscles against his finger; he slowed his actions, giving Sara time to recover. His hand glistened with wetness as he grasped his erection and pressed his fingers against his perineum—a technique he had learned to slow his own orgasm. Discreetly, he wiped his face before he moved upwards. He knew, never spoken, but he knew Sara could feel uncomfortable by the amount of fluid her body produced when sexually excited. He grinned; he loved it and proceeded to cause rolling laughter to come from her as he "tickled her body"—a game they played to prolong actual love-making. His mouth moved across her stomach, touching, tasting, gently sucking, his soft beard adding a dimension of sensation. When he found her navel, he wet it with his tongue, blew it dry and kissed it which caused Sara to twist and giggle—one of his favorite erotic places on her body.

He spent more time at the spot where her breasts swelled from her body—another place he loved for arousing and prolonging desire. Grissom was always tender, gentle with love-making knowing Sara's life had been too often affected by brutal violence and their passion for each other would not be one of force, never cruel.

As he moved across her chest, she said, "Get up here, Gilbert! Now!" Her hands searched for his smooth, firm penis but his quick movements kept it away from her hands. He knew those long slim fingers circling him would cause a quick orgasm and he—one of the flaws of being male—needed a longer time to recover than this woman did.

Reaching her breasts, he circled one with his fingertips and used his mouth on the other. The taste of her flesh was slightly salty, smelled of citrus and faintly floral; her dark areola was already firm and responded to his ministrations as he sucked, kissed and gently touched it with his teeth.

She squirmed underneath him, attempting to bring his erection nearer; he grinned and leisurely moved to the other breast. He managed to move one hand to her rear and slid a finger into the cleft that separated her butt. His action provided another distraction for several moments until he moved to touch Sara's face with his lips. Doing so brought his penis to the desired opening and he heard almost identical sounds-moaning gasps of air as their bodies intimately touched. His erection seemed to have a mind of its own as it pushed into intimate folds saturated with Sara's fluids.

Grissom knew he had never, and would never, have this kind of reaction with any other woman. Sara had been made for his body—something he would not have believed before loving her. She curved around his angles, she arched into his bow, and she closed around him in a way that made him excited beyond words and at the same time, feel safe, secure, and loved.

It was always a surprise to Sara when Grissom entered her body; it did not matter what else they did, the coming together, as he entered her most private place, she would gasp with the knowledge of knowing this man was placed on earth for her. Her body knew what to do as her breath came quickly; he pushed into her, filling her with an intensity of pleasure that was beyond description. Her back arched, her fingernails dug into his back; she was in the grip of a force that would not be stopped this time.

Grissom sensed her impending climax; her entire body tensed seconds before her orgasm burst like a storm. He clamped his mouth over hers and swallowed the sound of overwhelming pleasure. He thrust himself into Sara's body; filling her as his erection seemed to grow, overpowered by the urgency of his own passionate desire. When his own release came, he lost all conception of what was happening around him as anticipation rippled, built to the intense sensation of pulsating muscles powering his own fluids.

Waves of pleasure and passion swept over both as bodies softened, kisses given and received, nonsense words of lovers passed from lips, as they remained together until one recognized the soft sounds of sleep in the other. Sara combed fingers through her lover's hair, held his head against her neck and slept, dreaming of fantasies, daydreams, and desires that come true…

_After breakfast, Greg purchased two sweet cinnamon buns, had them carefully wrapped and placed in a paper box and delivered them to Sara's apartment. Even though her car was not in the parking lot, he left them at her door. Later, as he drove to work, he made a detour by her apartment to find the buns exactly where he had placed them._

_He found her in the locker room, early for their shift, hanging her jacket and stuffing a bag into the locker._

"_Hey, Sara," he said, "missed you at my pre-birthday breakfast this morning!" _

_She did not meet his eyes when she said, "I had an appointment I had to keep—on your birthday—we'll go out—to dinner." She turned to face him, giving her usual smile. _

_He grinned. "I'd like that." He shrugged, "Maybe you can ask Grissom to join us." _

_Quickly, Greg saw something unusual in her eyes—hesitation, fear, worry—whatever it was disappeared in seconds. He nodded. "It's fine," he said. "You and me—dinner." _

"_You pick the place—wherever you like." Sara said as she reached for his arm._

_He let her fingers close around his arm as he studied her face realizing Sara was more beautiful today than she had been six months ago. Her hair was longer, her face glowed, not from make-up, he thought, but from some source of contentment. Sara was not only in love; she was loved. Suddenly, he said, "Are you happy, Sara?"_

_Her eyes met his again. Realization, understanding, approval met her eyes. "Yes, very," she said, pausing before adding "You're a good friend, Greg." _

_Greg smiled again; he shuffled his feet and motioned toward the door. "Let's go catch some bad guys." _

_**The End! If you enjoyed it, leave a review, please-and thanks for doing so! **_

**_We will return with another story-GSR lives on in fanfiction if not on CSI! _**


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